


Candle Cove

by mossdehart



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Roman has a dead mom oop, Thomas is a real fun character in this, bigfoot!patton, cryptid AU, demon!remy, monster!remus, mothman!emile, phantom!janus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossdehart/pseuds/mossdehart
Summary: Roman hadn’t quite admitted it to himself, but this trip was important to him. He wasn’t excited to be spending the next few weeks in some dreary little town in the middle of nowhere, but it was something he needed to do.The car slowed as they reached a turn. The road ahead of them continued on for what seemed like miles, but there was a thinner, even bumpier dirt road to their left. The moon was now shining over them, as the rows of trees had thinned out, and Roman was able to read the large sign in front of him as the driver turned the vehicle.“Welcome to Candle Cove”
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Dr. Emile Picani
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Candle Cove

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago and forgot to post it I might work on the second chapter done if people like this one?

The headlights of a shiny, black car pierced through the night, illuminating only the bumpy road ahead. Thousands of trees flanked the path, blocking this path from the outside world, and only helping to darken the forest. Car tires spun up dust and dirt, leaving a smoky trail all across the wide road. 

Roman Ashworth stared into the rearview mirror, watching the never-ending cloud of dust grow and grow and then disappear into the night behind them, as they passed trees, trees, and more trees— we get it, it’s a forest, but could we change things up once in a while? All that he could hear was his own breathing, and the loud crunching of gravel from underneath them.

Finally turning his head away from the window, Roman leaned back against the passenger seat. He glanced at his driver, a large man with cropped hair and a thick beard. He hadn’t spoken a word since Roman had gotten in the car, he wasn’t even sure the man could speak.

Directly behind Roman sat his manager, Remy Hill. He was only a few years older than Roman, a tall man with styled back hair, skin so pale Roman worried sometimes, and a pair of sunglasses than never left his face. Roman didn’t have to turn his head too far to see that Remy was on his phone, the light catching the window beside him. 

Roman hadn’t quite admitted it to himself, but this trip was important to him. He wasn’t excited to be spending the next few weeks in some dreary little town in the middle of nowhere, but it was something he needed to do. 

The car slowed as they reached a turn. The road ahead of them continued on for what seemed like miles, but there was a thinner, even bumpier dirt road to their left. The moon was now shining over them, as the rows of trees had thinned out, and Roman was able to read the large sign in front of him as the driver turned the vehicle.

“Welcome to Candle Cove” 

Roman rolled his eyes at the old, hand painted sign, tilting his head back and glancing over at the rear view window again. He almost jumped as he saw something in the bushes behind them move. He shut his eyes, resisting the urge to laugh at himself. Typical city boy, jumping at the sight of a squirrel or a rabbit or a raccoon— or whatever that was. He kept his eyes shut, the glowing eyes watching the car from the bushes going unnoticed. 

The town wasn’t anything special. Wooden houses, a gas station, a police station. From what Roman remembered of the pictures his mother had shown him, this place hadn’t changed at all in the past 30 years. 

They pulled up to a building; brown, white, and partially brick walls, a staircase leading up to the doors, with a small overhang over the doorway. The theatre— Roman assumed. 

Roman would be staying here for a while, and absolutely refused to sleep in whatever rundown little motel this town had for that long. Remy had arranged for the two of them to stay in the theatre itself, which would have to do. They were lucky the owner of the theatre just so happened to live in the basement. He stepped out of the car. 

Hand on his hip, Roman tilted his head as he scanned his eyes over the building. He could hear Remy getting opening his door, and walk across the gravel to stand next to him. 

Remy took a small sip from his hydroflask, half full of coffee that had gone cold long ago. “What’s the verdict, your majesty?

Roman opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, looking behind Remy as he heard the car’s trunk slam shut. The driver rolled Roman’s two large suitcases and Remy’s smaller case over to them. He might have said something, but all Roman heard was a quiet grunt. Then he headed back towards the car, presumably to leave. 

Goodbye, my only hope of escape. Roman groaned internally, before focusing back on Remy, waving an arm. “Does it really matter?”

Remy glanced around them, then back at Roman. “Mm, yeah, it does babes. Cause unless you decide that we’re leaving in the next five seconds, we’re staying the night in there.”

One, two, three, four, five. Roman counted on his fingers, then heard the car behind them start to drive away. “I can’t just go home, at least, not right now. The stay here could do us both some good, I’m sure. It could be… fun.”

Remy scoffed, putting a hand to his chest. “Not to be a bitch, honey, but this is work for me. If I wanted to go on vacation, a creepy old theatre would not be anywhere in the picture.” 

Remy grabbed ahold of his bag, flipping his hair out of his face before walking towards the staircase. Roman followed, struggling to get his bags up the steps. 

The two of them stepped into the fairly large lobby of the theatre. The covered, yellow-tinted lights on the walls and ceiling were dim, giving the place a warm glow. The floor was a mahogany carpet, and the walls were a yellowed white, lined with lights and some wooden designs. There were a lot of chairs and tables on their right, and a stage with a few amps and microphones to their left. Parallel to the entrance was a pair of double doors on the opposite end of the room.There was also a bar near the little stage, which a woman was sitting on a stool and leaning against. 

When said woman noticed the two of them step in, she got to her feet, leaning forward on the wooden walking stick in her left hand. She was an older lady, older than Roman anyway, probably in her late 50’s. Her curly, greying brown hair was tied back into a bun, and she her bright orange glasses matched her flowery cardigan and tan coloured skirt. She had half a grin on her face, showing off one of her dimples. 

“Ah— there you boys are. Welcome to Candle Cove, I hope the trip from the big apple wasn’t too strenuous on y’all. The name’s Veronica Shelton, I run this here establishment. And you’ve gotta be Christie’s boy— you’re the spittin image of her.” 

Roman wasn’t sure how to respond as this woman approached him, smiling politely and accepting the firm handshake she offered. “That’s me, yes. Thank you so much for having us.”

“Eh that’s no problem dear, we ain’t exactly a bed and breakfast, but I fixed up a couple of rooms upstairs so you’ll have someplace to sleep.” She turned to Remy, an assumed smirk on her face as she glanced him over. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, what’s your handle, stranger?” 

Remy let go of the hand of his bag, adjusting his glasses before holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Remy Hill. We spoke on the phone several times—”

“Ah, shoot, of course! Well alright, we’ll have plenty of time to chat in the morning, y’all better get some rest. I’ll show you up to your rooms, cmon.” Veronica turned around quickly, heading for the closed double doors. Roman and Remy glanced at each other, unsure of what to make of the theatre’s owner or their situation. But, they had been travelling all day, it was getting late, and they had no other choice. So, they followed after Veronica, through one of the now opened double doors. 

This room was smaller than the previous one, but still tall and similar in design. There wasn’t much furniture, other than the bench attached to the left wall, and some potted plants scattered around. There were a few paintings, but Roman didn’t get a good look at any of them. There were some closed doors, a couple of them with bathroom signs, and two sets of doors on the left wall that had a bit of a slope leading down to them. That’s where Roman assumed the theatre itself was, the “no food or drinks inside (other than water)” signs on these doors giving him another strong hint. On the right wall, there was a pretty wide, carpeted staircase. 

The staircase is where Veronica was leading them, holding onto the wooden railing with one hand and her stick in the other. She was pretty slow, but got up faster than Roman did as he lugged up his bags and cursed himself for having so many cute outfits that he just had to bring. 

Veronica led the two men up into a wide hallway, which had a larger door on the left, one at the end of the hall, and two on the right. The two on the right were their bedrooms. 

“Now, these used to be for storage, but it I just got our custodian Mable to drag it all into the prop room. Maybe y’all can give them a hang getting it all up into the attic.”

“Sure, Veronica, it’s the least we can do.” Roman watched as she opened the doors, feeling Remy shoot a glare at him. He would probably regret agreeing to doing manual labour later— but right now, Roman just wanted to get to bed as soon as possible. 

Remy immediately retreated into his bedroom, glancing around before thanking Veronica, saying goodnight to her, and shutting the door behind him. The door slammed shut with a slight creak, which made Roman jump. He wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his hands into his sleeves. He was freezing cold, and a little shaky all of a sudden, unsure if it was from the theatre itself or his own exhaustion. 

Veronica stared at Remy’s closed door for several seconds, leaning against the wall between the doors as she turned her head to look at Roman. Her expression was suddenly much more serious than it had been. 

“I really hope you enjoy your stay here Roman. I know you don’t know me yet or nothing, I haven’t seen you since you were real little, so you wouldn’t remember me. That’s okay, it was a long time ago, I barely remember it either.” She chuckled, standing up straighter and running her thumb along the top of her walking stick. “God, it’s gotta be almost 30 years now since Christie left. She was such a… fascinating woman.” 

Roman glanced down at the floor, laughing and holding his arms in closer to his body. “Yeah, mom was definitely, uh… interesting.” 

Veronica blinked, then reached up and scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry, it’s probably a sore subject right now, huh? That’s the first thing you’ve gotta learn now that you’re here, stop me if I start ramblin on like that.” She chuckled, giving a firm pat to Roman’s arm. “You get to bed now, movie star. Breakfast’ll be ready at 9, and you won’t want to miss it.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Veronica. And again, thank you so much for—”

“Ah hush, I’m happy to have you, sport.” Veronica waved her arm at him as she began to walk off, back towards the stairs. “Rehearsals start in two days, you’d better start settlin in now. Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” She cackled, and Roman watched as she disappeared from his sight, still hearing the sound of her shuffling down the stairs as he entered his bedroom. 

The room itself was pretty small, with old flowery wallpaper and some basic furniture, including a dresser, shelves, and a single bed. The space smelled old, and of dry wood. The small light hanging from the ceiling was switched off, the room illuminated by a tall lamp next to the bed. Roman tucked his suitcases into a corner, deciding to unpack them the next day, or whenever he got around to it. Roman then undressed, tossing his shirt and pants on top of one of his bags. 

Roman settled down on the edge of the bed, heading the wooden frame creaking underneath his weight. There was a fairly large window right above where his bed met the room’s left wall, which he stared out for a few moments, unable to see much other than a few streetlights, and a single passing car. 

A strong wind blew against the window, creating soft whistling and the occasional rap of branches against the side of the building. Roman shuffled across the bed, leaning forward onto the windowsill. The moon peeked out behind some clouds. It appeared to be full tonight, though he couldn’t really be sure. 

Roman watched as another cloud inched closer and closer towards the moon, slowly covering it in a grey smog and dimming the brilliant light. He looked away once the moon had just about disappeared, hearing a buzzing noise coming from his belongings in the corner of the room. It was his phone— he had left it in his pants pocket. He grimaced, letting himself fall backwards onto the bed, feeling his head hitting the thin pillow. 

He didn’t bother checking his phone. He tugged up the blankets around him, turning over into his side. There was no one he wanted to speak to at the moment. His family had been trying to get ahold of him a lot lately, especially after he had skipped out on the funeral. Friends, acquaintances, and fans had been sending him their condolences ever since news got out of Christie’s death— which was more annoying than anything, even if they meant well. If Roman heard “I’m sorry for your loss” one more time, he thought he might actually get sick. 

It was in the middle of that thought that Roman lost consciousness, falling into a light slumber, which quickly turned into dreaming. 

Roman didn’t dream very often— and nothing he dreamed was ever too memorable. But lately, he’d been having the same dream over and over again, and tonight was no exception. 

He was kneeling on the floor of a dark room. There was furniture around, but even though he could see the general shapes, he couldn’t quite make out what any of it was. In front of him were a few candles, some of them lit, some not. He felt his heart racing in his chest. He felt like he was running, running away from something, even if he could see that he was just sitting still. 

His heart continued to flutter, and Roman struggled to move, but he just couldn’t. The small flames in front of him flickered and twitched like someone was trying to blow them out. His eyes stayed glued to the fire, and all at once, the candles blew out. 

Roman felt hands grab his shoulders. 

Brown eyes met bright gold ones as Roman was suddenly awoken, hands pressing against his shoulders as this dark figure leaned over him. 

Roman’s first instinct was to push this man off of him and scream, but found that he could not do either of those things. He couldn’t move at all, only able to stare upwards at whatever was leaning over him. 

The face of whoever was holding Roman by the shoulders was difficult to make out. It did not help that most of said face was covered by an expressionless, white mask; save for his right eye, and most of that half of his face. 

He heard a chuckle, and the face leaned down close. Roman felt lips press against his forehead for a brief moment, before pulling away, watching as the figure let go of Roman and moved to sit on the side of the bed. 

Roman could see more clearly now— brown hair mostly covered by a hat, dark clothing covering most of this person’s form. He began to calm, as he began to tell himself that he just be dreaming. This was just another nightmare, he would wake up any minute now. 

Something else was in the room. Roman couldn’t see it at first— but as soon as the thought came into his mind, his heart began racing. That’s when he saw, from the corner of his eye, another figure standing in a corner. It was next to his suitcases, not far from the door. The figure was… very hard to make out, with the room’s darkness and Roman’s limited movement. This figure was taller, dark and blurry, with long (horns? ears?) appendages coming from where he assumed it’s head was, and glowing white eyes—


End file.
